Ups and Downs
by Seppuku Doll
Summary: A series of individual KakaSaku drabbles with each chapter representing a different theme. Comedy, angst, romance, and smut all together.
1. Through Other People's Eyes

_I don't own Naruto. Let's keep it that way._

_a/n: I always feel bad writing author's notes. I feel like I'm being too indulgent. But I have to explain some things. _

_This is a series of drabbles released two at a time, both with the same theme. Each drabble should be treated as an individual story without bearing on the one before or after. That is all._

* * *

**Rumours**

No one quite knows what to say about Haruno Sakura and Hatake Kakashi these days.

There's no direct evidence, but there's speculation. In a place like Konoha, there's always speculation. One person swears he saw Kakashi tuck a strand of hair behind Sakura's ear. Another promises you she's seen Sakura adjust Kakashi's vest. And, Oh God, have you heard about how his examinations always take _hours_? Granted, Haruno Sakura is not a normal kunoichi and Kakashi - well, he wasn't a very normal teacher. The kinder people like to say that there's just a very strong bond between them, one born from sweat and blood and loss.

Besides, no one can really say anything. She's of age now and though he's fourteen years her senior, that's hardly unusual in a place like Konoha, in a place where adulthood is reached younger and younger. Where boys and girls are taught to kill, then to sell their talents to their country and others who paid considerably more. Who were they to gossip about a maybe-yes/maybe-no _something_ between a hero and their Hokage's apprentice?

But still, there are whispers about how she was seen knocking at his door in the middle of the night, stealing glances around her and scratching at her calves with her toes. Or how he's suddenly reading that dirty book of his less and less. She smiles more than she has in a long time and though not many can tell exactly when Kakashi is smiling, people say the same of him. He buys groceries for two now, unless he's more hungry than he used to be. Department store clerks say she's been looking at some pretty pricey undergarments.

But really, no one knows quite what to say.

* * *

**  
The Book Signing**

The only one who can get his paws on Kakashi's manga is Jiraiya, of course. Being the source of the smut, it's only natural that he should. They know each other personally, but there's still the novelty of book signings. On those happy days, where Jiraiya gets to meet all his happy drooling fans - older housewives with kink still left in them, younger boys with wispy facial hair - he can always expect to see the copy nin waiting patiently in line with a dog-eared copy of his latest work.

Today, he's the last in line. When Jiraiya takes the book from his hand (pries, really), he notes a red marking on one of the pages. Someone _vandalizing_ his art?! Gasping his shock and horror, he flips through the pages. In every racy panel there's a check mark. Jiraiya is a smart man and he can guess very well what a check mark is supposed to denote but... He pauses and sets the book down for a second, his thumb holding the place of an especially complex page.

"There is no way any living person can do some of the things in here."

Kakashi shrugs and his exposed eye crinkles into what Jiraiya can only assume is a sheepish grin. Or maybe an arrogant one. Or a lying son-of-a-bitch one.

"I mean, it figures you'd get around, but damn! How many women did you find to do these?! Where can I find them?!" Jiraiya continues, reopening the book.

"What makes you think there's more than one woman?"

"There's no way you could convince one woman to..." Jiraiya trails off as he reaches a page of chapter art. The woman drawn is slim, with short hair and a bright smile. She's wearing a medic uniform - this would be the one about the naughty nurse. His inspiration for this character is a secret one; a fairly obvious secret, actually, but no one else seems to have figured it out. Or if they have, they haven't told his muse, else she'd be punching a hole through his middle.

There's no nudity, no man, nothing too obscene in this one picture. And yet there's still a check. Jiraiya glances up and gives Kakashi a long, hard stare, one brow raised. Kakashi takes the book from limp hands, opens it to the front page, and sets it down before its author.

"Just sign it. You tell anyone and I'll tell _her_."

It's a very good threat.


	2. Unmasking

**Unimpressed**

It had been so...anti-climactic. After years of whispering and giggling and conspiring, she had expected some great battle to pry his mask off. Or at least use of a crowbar. Hell, half of her expected it to be _stuck_ to his face - it had to be sticky after all the drinking he did through it. She suspected that he'd simply kept his appearance such a guarded mystery in Team 7's youth to amuse himself. He'd shown his face without hesitation to people he hardly knew and yet they, his team, weren't allowed the same benefit. Maybe it'd been some sort of unspoken challenge, an updated bell trial. Pull down the mask and win the prize!

None of them had ever succeeded.

After so long, she had simply just tucked away the hope of one day seeing whatever he hid beneath the fabric. Sakura surrendered, in so many words. Whatever was really under there would simply never live up to her fantasies of giant lips and pulsating warts.

Then, there was that pivotal mission. Just the two of them. Together. What a plot twist.

As casual as could be, in the middle of some backwater restaurant, he tugged his mask down and ate his meal like a civilized, sane person. And maybe it was because the situation was so terribly mundane, but she didn't find him too impressive. To be completely frank, she'd built up other imaginings of his lips, his nose, his chin, ones that didn't include unsightly blemishes or hideous scars. She wasn't sure if he met those expectations. Judging by how the waitresses stuttered and even the men had paused, she was the only one unfazed. Sensibly, he left the headband on; no sense in getting everyone in a tizzy over a red eye as well.

She stared at him a long time as he ate and he ignored her stare, eye toward his food. Finally, after a stretched silence, she laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed until he was forced to glare up at her for making a bigger scene than his face had - and possibly insulting his roguish good looks.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." She gasped, clutching her stomach. "I just realized what you've been hiding. You have the _worst_ tanline."  
That night, he laid her into bed as inevitably happens when a heterosexual man and woman spend entirely too much time together. It wasn't until he was in her, eyes meeting hers, brows furrowed, lips parted in heavy breaths, that she saw the true appeal of his facial features.

* * *

**Undressing**

Whenever Sakura removes his mask, she does it slowly and with relish. With the way she stops to study his face, running her fingers over the scars and creases, it's as if every time is the first time. Like no matter how many times she sees it, her mental and muscle memory just cannot compare. 

Really, Kakashi doesn't see the big deal.

Then again, he treats her body in the same way. It's much more fascinating than his face and every time he uncovers it, inch by inch, he stops to touch and taste the attractions. There is a mole just to the left of her navel that floors him completely. He doubts anyone other than himself has ever noticed that faded scar on the underbelly of her arm. Absolutely no one else has seen the birthmark on her inner left thigh. She has a smattering of freckles across her back, pale but there.

If he brushes his fingers lightly over her stomach, she can't breathe. If he bites into her hip with just the right pressure, she breathes too hard. When she likes something, really likes something, he can't help but wonder in the way her body rolls and writhes, arches and bends. She moves in every right way, graceful even when she's clumsy and flustered. Her soap smells like any other soap, but she somehow wears the scent like perfume. No matter how many times he's seen her naked and panting, each time is as enthralling as the last.

Yes, he has a face, and it's not a face seen very often. But she has a body, a glorious body that is only his to know.


	3. Regret

_Dear shkh4ever,_

_Your reviews made me giggle._

* * *

**An Examination of the Past**

Sakura's husband is a passionate man, but he spares next to none of that passion for her. It strikes her as ironic that she spent years trying to get over a boy driven by only one desire only to marry a man of the exact same nature. But she remembers a time between those two, a time when she was worthy of attention and she was wanted more than a title or revenge.

Sometimes, when she's feeding her screaming, blonde children or watching the back of her screaming, blonde husband as he leaves yet again, her mind drifts back to that little pocket in the past. Stolen kisses in darkened streets. Clandestine meetings in each other's homes. Moments of pleasure so extreme that just remembering makes her legs clench and her toes curl. And her ultimatum, one that he didn't take seriously until she turned away from him and didn't look back.

They still see each other, every once in awhile. Their eyes never meet when she examines him with trembling hands. When they pass each other in the store, she can feel his mismatched gaze on her back as she retreats. Her children always stop when they see him to grab his pants and climb on his back, babbling away about what he must be hiding under that mask. When that happens, he turns toward her and offers a small, hidden smile that she can see in her mind's eye.

When she watches him pass by under her window, he looks up to her apartment and she wonders if he can see her seeing him. She wonders if he, too, thinks about what they've sacrificed. Then Sakura looks to her children sleeping, playing, or laughing, and she thinks about what she's gained.

* * *

**An Examination of a Mistake**

He casts a one-eyed glance over her as he zips his vest. The thin sheet hugs her sweaty, sleeping form like a second skin, and though he knows every nuance of her body, he's still stricken by the image. It's easy to forget that she was once his student. It's even easier to forget that eventually, she's going to be angry with him for always leaving before she wakes. He knows that one day, she's not going to be satisfied with their trysts, even though in the beginning, she assured him that she would be.

It's not that Sakura is especially demanding or emotionally rational. She's a _woman_, and while she understands that fairy tale endings are impossible for her and especially for him, she'll get ideas that maybe things will work out between them. Commitmentment isn't a death sentence, she'll say shrewdly, glaring at him. And he will shrug and say that commitment just isn't something he's interested in. She'll have some quip waiting - something about him not being interested in her as well. There will be an argument that'll involve her yelling and him watching her impassively.

Kakashi's not a fortune teller or a pessimist, but he's a realist. It won't be enough for her because she deserves more. He's can't give her more - won't give her more. She still doesn't know anything about him other than his full name, rank, and how he feels beneath, over, inside, and beside her.

When he walks out her door, he contemplates what he'll regret more: starting things or ending them.


	4. Uncertainty

_kaliaa - I think you're thinking about Butterfly by Tea Leaf. The suicide thing, I mean. Good story._

_shkh4ever - It was a happy giggle, of course._

* * *

**An Unlikely Scenario**

Though it's highly unlikely and he spends entirely too much time thinking about it, Kakashi is beginning to wonder whether or not Sakura might...want him. It's a weird idea to wrap his mind around. He's forty now and she's twenty-six; he's got a few wrinkles here and there, not that anyone can rightly tell, what with his mask and all. She's in the prime of her adulthood, soft and firm in all the places where she should be.Whereas ifhis hairwasn't already silver,it would be greying.

Yet he can't quite understand why she's been seeking him out more often. Alone. When they eat dinner together, she laughs a little too hard at his quips. There are stretches of silence where she'll open her mouth, but say nothing. He's caught her staring at choice parts of his anatomy a little too hard. At first, he thought there was something stuck on his ass - maybe he sat in gum or something - but nothing was there.

The most disconcerting is when she'll watch him when she thinks he's not looking, chewing on her bottom lip. The look in her eyes then is so animalistic, so predatory, that it's almost frightening. There's also the way she rests her hand on his shoulder for a second too long, then drags her fingers away. Oh, and those clothes she wears. Nothing too drastic, but he swears she never wears that top - the one with the neckline that's a little lower than usual - or those pants - the ones that also dip lower, displaying the rise of her hip bones - when she hasn't planned on seeing him.

Once, she bumped into him while grocery shopping (_she_ bumped into _him_) and splashed some of her soda on her top. Her top was white. They were by the frozen foods section. It was cold. He stared.

Every time she calls him sensei, he tenses a little bit, trying to decide whether or not the title is a tease or serious. In either case, the way she says it - with a lilting edge and batting eyelashes - wasn't the way she said it a few years ago. He can't figure out exactly how he feels about the whole ordeal, but until she grabs his crotch, he won't do a damn thing about it.

Well. Unless she spills soda on her top again.

* * *

**A Dose of Reality**

"Kakashi!"

He ignores her, in favour of trying to remove her panties. There's just the slightest hint of dismay in her tone, but Sakura's gotten him going.

"Kakashi...!" There's a warning now. Her panties are not cooperating and she just won't move her legs to make it any easier.

"Kakashi, I do _not_ bend that way."

Finally, he stops to stare at her. Her lips are kiss-stained and her bare chest is huffing and puffing with equal parts annoyance and dwindling anticipation. Pink hair frames her face in utter disarray, poofs of it sticking out here and there. It looks as if he's already finished the job. It looks so good that he has to dip his head for another kiss.

They're in a bathroom, both of them a little drunk. She had been sitting on the sink with her legs wrapped around his waist until he'd pushed her back a bit too far. The faucet had dug into her back and apparently, it wasn't very comfortable. They'd tried the floor, but it was gritty and sticky with who-knew-what. Then, an attempt at the sink again that almost worked until the door began to open. In the greatest misuse of shinobi prowess ever, they'd stuffed themselves into the nearest stall and stood unsteadily on the toilet, his hands clamped over both their mouths to stifle their heavy breathing until the intruder had left.

Standing hadn't worked; her knees had gotten too weak once he'd bitten into her neck and slipped his fingers from her rear to between her legs. So now she is sitting on the toilet, legs in a position that would have made a contortionist confused. Things still aren't working, but they're kissing and Sakura is ready to forget the pain until...until...

"Ow, ow, stop!" She grunts against his lips, jerking away only to be asserted by a fresh wave of pain. The alcohol is definitely wearing off, because it hurts entirely too much to have her hair caught in the metal on his gloves. After some gentle tugging, silent except for her soft hisses of pain, she's free.

The mood is gone and they're both still sitting there. Kakashi on his knees in front of her, Sakura with her top hanging open and her eyes still watering from the last incident. The implications of impulse are beginning to sink in and Sakura pulls her top closed. Kakashi looks away, pulling his mask up. This was not how a first time between two attracted colleagues was supposed to be.

After a few minutes, Kakashi stands and clears his throat, trying to figure out exactly how to turn so that he faces the exit. She's stands as well, and there's some bumbling. Her top falls open again. Sakura turns and then her ass rubs against his waning erection - and lo and behold! No longer is it waning! She glances at him over her shoulder and he returns the stare, pulling his mask down again. He grips her hips and there's a slow grind between them.

At last, a position they can agree on.


	5. Hair

**A Bathroom Moment**

Sakura has been sneaking glances at him for the past hour now, but never once has his attention left the pages of his book. She rolls her eyes and huffs a bit, fussing up the back of her hair for a bit of volume.

She's not the same kunoichi she used to be, understanding now that there are more important things than her appearance. That doesn't mean, however, that she can't take a bit of _pride_ in it. Sakura isn't Konoha's beauty queen, but she still has to keep up with Kakashi, who might as well be. Even though no one can really tell. It's a matter of principle.

At any rate, her hair was finally getting to a place she liked. Not too short or long, remarkably soft after a deep conditioning treatment. Trendy, but not pretentious or typical. And while her hair had been a proper occupational length, it still had been long enough for the fist of an enemy to close in and pull. The pain had been astounding, screaming from her scalp downward, and her teammate was prostrate beneath her, in dire need of medical attention. And then she had been _raised_ by her locks, legs dangling and all, fists flailing but finding no purchase. The most obvious solution was one she'd stumbled upon before, so without much thought, out came the kunai and off came her hair. She realizes now she could have crushed his hand instead and the results would have been much more favorable.

The salon in Konoha had done as much as it could with the jagged remainders, the stylist settling with a choppy little 'do that would have looked very good on someone else. It makes _her_ look like a teenaged boy. The fact that she isn't especially curvaceous aggravates things. She knows she's seen the creepy man across the street eyeing her with more interest than is comfortable. Though she feels a bit silly being as concerned over it as she is (even Ino had told her to stop complaining), she's the only one she knows with pink hair. She's defined by it.

Since she's returned Kakashi hasn't said one word about it - though this is the first time they've seen each other since her mission ended and he hasn't looked at her once. The silence is grating.

"So." She finally says, turning toward him and leaning against the sink, arms crossed over her robe. "What do you think?"

"About what?" He asks, turning a page.

"Don't pretend you haven't noticed!"

"Noticed what?"

He's still not looking at her; if he was, he'd take note of her dangerous glare.

"You don't see?"

Kakashi finally rolls out of the bed they sometimes share and sometimes don't to approach her, one hand in his pocket, the other still grasping his book. He reads as he walks and doesn't trip over a single thing.

"I see..." He pauses, his one visible eye scanning the page. The hand in his pocket reaches out and pries her arms away from her chest. As easy as that, he slips his fingers beneath the folds of her robe and she doesn't stop him. He follows the underside of one breast and then the other. "I see perfect breasts."

His hand grazes down her waist and rests on her hips. Already, she's beginning to feel a bit flustered, mostly because of his hand. There's also the fact of his very agitating indifference. The robe is coming loose.

"I see perfect hips."

The hand at her waist slides around to grip her rear tightly, lifting her subtly so she sits on the counter. He eases over her thighs, dragging short nails across her skin. Sakura wants to grab his book and throw it across the room, but instead, she's quiet as he tickles up her inner thigh, stopping just inches of where she wants him to be.

"I see legs that go on for miles..."

He cups her and she sighs, widening her legs in anticipation. He lowers his book and crinkles his eye in a smile as it scans her expression, tinged with irritation and want. "And I see a really bad haircut."

As he walks back to the bedroom, she hurls a soap bar at his head.

�

**She Says**

Kakashi wanted to know if she was any good at cutting hair. If she wasn't, that was fine. He didn't need much done. It was just that his barber was out of town and things were getting a little too long for comfort. He hated to impose upon her, but there was no one else.

The general consensus seems to be that since Sakura once hacked off half her hair awhile back, she'd be alright with shearing a few inches off someone else's. She doesn't get the logic, but this isn't the first time she's been asked. Naruto did a few times when he was broke. Shikamaru did once when he "couldn't be bothered" to go to an actual establishment. Still, when Kakashi asks her to do this for him, she's surprised. This implies real trust just as surely as it implies that she's going to have to take off his mask to do it.

But when he lowers his mask, he does it so nonchalantly that Sakura is forced to treat the event in the same manner. He does it without prompting and without even looking at her. He is seated in her living room, hair damp, with a towel around his shoulders and one beneath his chair to catch the clippings. She stands over him, fingers threading across his scalp and snipping here and there.

His hair is arranged into not so much a style as a well-functioning mop. Sakura hardly knows where to start, but Kakashi apparently has no preferences. He doesn't even jump when Sakura mumbles an 'oops'. Accident, she says. He simply turns another page in his book, unperturbed. It's funny that he should be so calm while she's practically falling apart behind him.

It's too much to ask to impress him with something as simple as a haircut. Sakura isn't a trained professional, after all. She doesn't plan on giving him a mohawk. But she wants to do well, to earn a thank you, and maybe a dinner. She wants to not be affected by the warmth seeping out of him and brushing against her front. And more than anything, she wants to recommend that he use conditioner, and lots of it. His hair is tangled and not at all as soft as she had imagined it'd be. He doesn't smell particularly good either, but the way he does smell - slightly soapy, slightly sweaty - gives her goosebumps.

Before she can convince herself not to do it, Sakura straddles his lap. A better angle, she says as he looks up from his book. He nods and closes the offending novel, setting it carefully on the floor. And for lack of anything better to look at, Sakura assumes, he's staring at her. Somehow, the impact of his one eye is twice as potent as any double-eyed gaze she's encountered. She clears her throat and places a hand on either side of his face. To compare length, she says.

After a moment, Sakura glances down to see both his hands on both her hips. She jerks her head back up to gape at him in question. He raises his eyebrows. To keep her there, he says.


	6. Sharing

_Just to let you guys know, I don't plan on writing a single drabble where they tell each other they love each other. I'm not sure if I think it's their style. It's fine if you disagree with me. It's fine that other authorshave them vocally in love. Just if you notice the lack of open declarations of affection, that's why._

**Fine**

Kakashi and Sakura don't have the sort of relationship you'd refer to as conventionally "open" or "sharing." When Kakashi asks her how her day went, it's more of a formality than a question born from actual curiousity. When Sakura asks, generally she wants to know, but he usually gives the same answer as her. Fine. My day was fine. How was yours? If there's any reply, it's usually forgotten by the time they reach the bed.

It's not terrible. Somedays, Sakura really doesn't want to talk about how her day went. She doesn't want to tell Kakashi that today, a genin died on an operating table even before the first incision was made. For his part, he doesn't want to talk about how he killed a genin before and how seeing a boy with a passing resemblance felt like the reopening of a terrible wound.

Their relationship is one based in fantasy. In a world where every day is just as fine as the last. A world where they're not secretly wondering how many deaths the other has witnessed within the last few hours. Here, they can pretend that their interaction is nothing more than sport fucking with dinners and laughter sprinkled in between. The make-believe isn't necessarily something she wants, but it's something they're both good at. Open intimacy isn't for people like them, even though Sakura likes to think that one day it could be. Kakashi doesn't like to think about it at all.

But in the dark, when she starts to cry, he holds her. And when he wakes up from a nightmare, tense and sweaty, she strokes him back to sleep. And really, that's all the sharing they need.

* * *

**One Bedroom**

Once upon a time, on a mission into buttfuck nowhere, Kakashi and Sakura decided to share a bedroom. She was an adult now and there were two beds, so there was nothing _too_ improper about it. Furthermore, their funds were low and they were both professionals. It was the perfect solution.

Only, Kakashi didn't realize that when Sakura left her pack outside the bathroom, she'd come out in only a damp towel. Her hair clung to face and neck in damp rivulets and she was shrouded in steam. Water glistened on her skin. Sakura didn't realize that Kakashi would remove his mask. His face was perfect in its contradictions - a strong, squared jawline paired with full lips. A slightly crooked nose against high cheekbones.

Neither of them realized that with these realizations, their single room would be almost too hot to bear and too small to swallow. Every shuffle under the sheets and heavy sigh was louder than it should have been. Sleepy grunts and moans were entirely misread.

The next night, on a mission to buttfuck nowhere, Kakashi and Sakura decided that it'd** be much more prudent to share a bed as well as a room.**


	7. Fleeting

_SHKH, I'm sorry, but I don't think I'd ever be able to do a multi-chapter, though I wish I could. I don't have the attention span or creativity for it, I'm afraid.  


* * *

_

**An Exchange**

Kakashi doesn't exactly know when it started. All he can remember is the clashing of teeth and lips, the tearing and ripping of clothes, the slide and slap of bare skin. He and Sakura might have been building up to that moment for ages. It might have been spontaneous. Either way, it was a lapse in judgement that left both satisfied and exhausted, glad for once that both of them were still able to make ill-informed decisions.

Quickly after, an indiscretion turned into an addiction. He couldn't look at her without his palms itching to run themselves across the swell of her hips. When she spoke, he didn't listen; instead he studied the movement of her lips and tongue. In the event that neither of them were busy, they were together, shunning daylight for the comfort of taste and touch. Kakashi was constantly tired during those few months, but he couldn't avoid it. He had discovered something new, something amazing, and he hoarded it to himself until it became a compulsion. She didn't know much at first, but he eased it into her and she was still a receptive student.

But such intense passion rarely lasts. It fizzled out slowly. They stopped fucking and started haivng sex. They stopped finding pockets of time to meet and started finding pockets of time for themselves. He took a lengthy mission far away and surprisingly enough, thought about her very little. When he returned, they met and instead of locking themselves away, they had dinner. Sakura had promised Sasuke to help him birth heirs. The ring was small, but tasteful. It seemed more like a favour to a friend than an actual engagement.

They parted ways amicably and not empty handed. Kakashi left with the taste of her youth still heavy on the back of his tongue. She left with his experience written into every inch of her skin.  


* * *

**A Near-Life Experience**

There's something about a near-death experience. Water tastes sweeter afterward. The air is fresher. One has to stop and marvel at every flexing of muscle and twisting of bone. The sex is definitely better as well.

Kakashi and Sakura stop to look at one another, chests heaving in shuddering breaths. And then she's in his arms and they're kissing, trying to claim dominance not over each other, but over their bodies. Reminding themselves they're alive. Teeth, tongue, lips, nothing is overlooked. They're sweaty, desperate, and hurting, but there's no desire to contemplate anything other than the glorious fact that they have escaped the end together and there is a definite need for celebration.

Tentative touches and exploration are for people with the luxury of time. They are gentle with one another only out of necessity; they're scraped and bruised and pleasure mixes with pain. Even when he's in her and neither are able to breathe from sheer exhaustion, they do not slow. Even when she _has_ to moan, has to find some way to vocalize what he's doing to her, their mouths are still connected. They move against each other, motions made slick and sloppy by sweat and blood.  
,br When it's over, they separate immediately. Most of their clothing (or what's left of it), is still on, and quietly, awkwardly, they shift the fabric back into place. Their eyes don't meet. It takes a moment for realization to catch up with the dull tremors coursing through them. A crime of passion. An apology is needed somewhere, hanging on the tips of both their tongues, but it never passes that point.

For the rest of their mission, they do not discuss what has happened and they do not repeat it. There isn't an urge to. What has happened between them is something sacred, something past rationalization. It can't be called a mistake, but it can't be called anything else either. It's nothing they'll do again, but it's nothing they'll regret.


	8. None

_Lol no theme. Because I couldn't think of one. I just wrote._

* * *

**A Big Deal**

"Really, Kakashi, it's not a big deal. Some women just can't--"

"It is a big deal."

He pulls up from between her legs and deposits himself on the pillow beside her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking decidedly _pissed_. Sakura's trying not to feel too cross because really, this is all her false. And as far as punishments go, even though she feels a little raw, this isn't so bad.

"It's not. I forgot the number exactly, but I think the percentage of women who can't is--"

"_Please_, no statistics."

It had started with a girl's night in. Sakura, Ino, Hinata, and Tenten had all locked themselves into Ino's with nothing more than pajamas, blankets, and entirely too much liquor. Truth or Dare had turned into just Truth when the small group had realized that Ino was the only one not balking at propositions for dares. Tenten had asked a question, and though Sakura couldn't rightly remember what the question was, she remembered her answer loud and clear.

_"It's hilarious! The copy nin, the man who can see through genjutsu, can't tell when I'm faking it."_

Unfortunately, Sakura wasn't the only one who remembered her answer. Ino hadn't been as drunk as everyone else, the sly bitch, and now, now the whole town knew that Haruno Sakura was _quite_ the actress. Kakashi, the most oft-whispered about man in Konoha ladies' restrooms, was now the butt of a million bad, dirty jokes. She didn't blame him for trying to reassert his dignity. But it was getting to the point where she was almost numb.

"I could always use my--"

"No."

"But we've never--"

"No."

They share a glare that's more foreplay than anything else he's been doing to her for the past hour. It's all been so mechanical - as if Kakashi opened a mental manual and set to work. But she's not a VCR and she can't be programmed like one. Her vagina does not have a clock to set.

"Kakashi, let's just..."

"Alright."

"It'd be better if you just--"

"Took my time?"

"Yeah and if you--"

"Be more fluid about it. Got it."

Thirty minutes later, Sakura is very happy to say that she is no longer apart of the statistic.

* * *

**Questions**

It's been a long, long time since any one of his students have approached him about his mask. To his relief, they've stopped trying to trick it off of him. Like the rest of Konoha, they've accepted it as just another part of his body; an extra limb, a third nipple. Unnatural, but unremovable. But recently, Sakura's taken to asking him about it. She hasn't been trying to pry it off his face or anything - she's just been rattling questions out every time they see each other which, he's noticed, is more than it has been. Not that he minds; now that she's older and they're colleagues instead of teacher and student, things have relaxed between them. She's old enough so that he doesn't feel bad about drinking with her, but young enough so that everything still points up. Yes, he's noticed.

The questions she asks are innocent at first. He thinks she's just satisfying curiosity.

"Does your mask smell funny?"

"Do you take it off when you do laundry?"

Then they get a little stranger.

"You don't wear it in the shower. But what about when you shower with other people?"

"So how many women in town have seen your face?"

And then, one day, she lays it out. He should have expected it, but he didn't.

"Do you wear that thing when you're having sex?" Kakashi is so utterly and completely shocked, that he can't think of a lie quick enough, because to think too hard about it would be to give her time to tease him. He throws out an answer and it turns out to be the truth.

"No."

"Good." She says, tapping his nose. "Now I know how to get it off of you."

He's speechless and beneath his mask, his jaw is hanging as he watches her walk away.


End file.
